


The Stark Contrast

by LuckyIzzy



Series: Ironically Strange [16]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Implied Suicide Attempt, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Physical Disability, Psychological, Sexual Dysfunction, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 12:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16475264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyIzzy/pseuds/LuckyIzzy
Summary: Is there really a need of him to remain existing when he does not want to?





	1. Life and Lie

**Author's Note:**

> It is beta-ed by [Vi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangeMischief)
> 
>  **Warning:** Please read the tags carefully, turn away if any of the tags trigger you. 

His lips on Stephen’s are more amazing than he had thought it would be.  
  
Once you love someone, they start seeping into your life through osmosis. Even if you hate it, even if you want to stop it, there is no choice except maybe fall out of love with them. Before you know it, they exist in every pore of your being. With every breath, you take in bits of them, each lungful, constricting your soul.  
  
_Deadly, dangerous_.  
  
Perhaps love is just euphemism for drug —  a twisted organic one.  
  
Tony does not mind. Even though it makes his brain conjure up a false reality that would never happen, it also makes him dizzy, lightheaded. It’s nice, nice to have someone to love in his heart instead of that big, gaping hole inside both his metaphorical and literal chest. Not that the gaping hole was going away. At least not until he was dead and rotting to bones would it ever be  impossible to tell it ever existed, that the wound was ever there.

 

That thought is surprising. If he were dead, would his rotten cells turn into tiny specks of dust? People would breathe in him, he would exist in their lungs, their hearts.  
  
Existing in someone’s heart is very pleasurable thought.  
  
Or maybe he would stop existing altogether, forgotten.  
  
Forgotten, as if he had never existed. That sounded more entertaining. If ceasing to exist would mean all his mistakes and poor decisions could be forgotten, he would happily, and without regret choose that reality.  
  
_A world with no Tony Stark_ , Tony muses, _how nice._  
  
Now there is a sharp intake of breath and a scarred palm softly is pushing at his chest lightly. The meaning is clear: move away.  
  
Tony pulls away. As if he had hoped for any different outcome from the start. He does not regret, because now he has actual evidence of the softness and warmth of those lips to base his fantasies upon. However, he can’t shake  the disgusting feeling of invading someone’s personal space without permission. The Tony from 15 years ago could care less.  
  
He hadn’t meant to kiss Stephen. The sorcerer has just been explaining some complex works of magic, and the afternoon sun had crept through a gap of the window pane to bless its golden hues on Stephen Strange. White hair turned silver and black took on an orange glow, and the shining irises glowed like they were a pair of gleaming gems. Tony could see the faint scarring, paler than Stephen’s natural complexion, on his high cheekbones. He would not have seen them from a respectable distance, wouldn’t have felt the urge to run his own callous finger over them. If the gazes, weird grins, and flustered comments were anything to go by, he would say Stephen was interested. Or the him from 15 years ago probably would. Now, he is not so sure. He’s not as that loveable. He comes free with anxiety, PTSD attacks, and arrogance mixed with a thousand other complexes, glares from paparazzi and need he say more? He belongs to the public. A rowdy life filled with controversies. No one who deserves happiness should go through the pain of loving him. No, loving him comes with too great a cost.

But Stephen is like a forest. Calm, quiet, and private. Sounds resonate within him like bird chirpings, but in the end, they disappear as if they did not exist. And, like a forest, he was full of secrets. Rarely, everything would go up in a blaze, and it would reveal its evil beasts, and nauseating sights that even the most prying eyes would wish they hadn’t seen.  
  
Stephen shifts awkwardly after Tony has pulled away, his eyelids blinking rapidly. His body language screams discomfort. But before he can say something, Tony interrupts, “Hey, Stephen…” It has been an awfully long time since Tony has done this, words fumble around his throat, “If you are interested..we could...maybe try...”  
  
Stephen does not meet his eyes, instead, he stands up abruptly, “I will think about it.”  
  
That’s his cue to leave. Tony does not want to push - he has done enough of that already in his lifetime. He nods curtly, but not without a smile, and turns to leave.  
  
Perhaps he should not come here anymore. Still, it is worth it to take a chance rather than just sitting and doing nothing.  
  
“I will see you later, next week,” Stephen says, his voice odd, and his face betraying nothing.  
  
There is a cool splash of relief through Tony, and he smiles again and waves a hand and walks out. He will meet Stephen again. Well, if he manages not to die in between. He laughs drily to himself at the thought.  
  
Out on the dark street, the reddish glow of the lamps fall on the windows of the car as he drives back, creating a plethora of vibrant reflections. Tony remembers space. The stars and milky way look like that, don’t they?

 

Space was dangerously beautiful. He wonders if he can just get on a spaceship, fly away from earth, and sail on a journey in the sea of stars. Then, one day, he would run out of food, and die starved with the imprint of bright, terrifying colour on his eyes. Or maybe he would venture into a blackhole, through time and space, and arrive in a world where he could rewrite his own life. Or perhaps a meteorite would hit his spaceship, and he’d say hello to a very quick, calm death.  
  
He really should start working a spaceship then.  
  
  
He wakes up every day, if he is even sleeping in the first place, smiles in front of the press and works in his lab. Occasionally there would be grieving mother, father, brother, sister, son, daughter, lover coming to blame him and asking how he has done very little to keep on living.

 

He doesn’t tell them that he wonders why he is alive too, that he knows there are people who are dead and deserve to live more than he does.  
  
Somedays are just perfect, he is hyped about how he can help the world and honestly motivated to to work on all the shattered relationships. There is flutter inside his chest and despite the diminished capacity of his lungs, he feels like he can breath again. He feels like finally the hollow in his chest is gone for good.  
  
Then, in the midst of a lecture or lying on the middle of the empty bed or laughing with blurred faces in a bar, there would come an uninvited tempest inside him cutting him up blowing him away and tearing him from all his stability. He can’t but shake, can’t but want to curl into himself and howl like an injured beast. Either he collapses on the floor or fist his bedsheets to tear them and bite into his lips hard enough to cut.  
  
_Everything hurts._  
  
  
By day, life is fine and steady. At night, his bed is uncomfortably cold. He should remember to get a heater beside his bed or more blankets.

* * *

  
Tony doesn’t need him. He really doesn’t. One broken person does not need another to worsen a situation. Tony needs someone to smile at him, hold him while he can’t fall asleep, say “because I love you”, and kiss him and make it all better. Tony needs a strong, adhesive person in his life, to help him hold himself together.  
  
That is not Stephen Strange.  
  
Stephen can’t be with him. He can’t put the huge burden on what Tony already carries. The burden that seeps through every word Tony speaks, every stare Tony throws at him, every breath he takes.  
  
He can’t heal Tony Stark, he will only make it worse.  
  
But Stephen couldn’t help but to think  out the pros and cons of dating Tony Stark. To think of a dream-like reality where they are meant for each other. A reality where Tony truly loves him, and is not actually just holding on to whatever he can because he just needs someone, _anyone._  
  
He makes a list.  
  
**Cons.**  
\- There would be an uproar of homophobic people and possibly damage some of Tony’s reputation. (On the other hand, it does not really matter if neither Tony nor he cares.)  
\- Tony could find someone he really loves, and leave him.  
\- He would make Tony’s psychological state worse by being with him.  
\- And, perhaps worst of all,he could lose a friendship.  
  
The pros, or rather pro, was simple: he would get to be with Tony, that Tony might love him even if he does not need to.  
  
  
  
_That he would get to be with Tony._  
  
  
  
Stephen should take the chance offered to him. He really  should. And if it doesn’t work out, he could always remove all the memories of what happened.  
  
Secretly, Stephen doubts he could ever get rid of anything to do with Tony from his memories. Every second is precious. Especially each second spent with Tony.

  
The sweeter the feelings were, the sourer it would be once he was unable to feel them.  
  
  
Stephen runs his fingers over his lips. When he closes his eyes he can almost feel the scratch of the goatee and faint brush of rough lips - abused with cigarettes - against his lips.


	2. Death and Deceit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it okay for him to love when he does not deserve it?

By next week, Tony is expecting Stephen to come and tell him how they cannot work out and phrasing things so that Tony does not get hurt. Really, he does not mind. He can just find anyone else if he so wants. He has loads of money to spare. He can throw them around and he is pretty sure there would be some pretty dude or chic more than willing to share lives with him. With enough share of his wealth, they will even put up with his issues.   
  
He briefly wonders what Stephen would do if he offered him money. The immediate answer that his brain supplies is that Stephen is likely to throw the money at his face and leave and never talk to him as a friend.   
  
Only if the world was simpler and there was a correct “how to predict human behavior” self-help book somewhere.    
  
Tony keeps tapping his pen and moving his legs all through the meeting. But it is alright, it is nothing important, just a formality to keep abreast of each other. He stares at Stephen listening intently to Carol, then his eyes flick up to the others. Steve’s eyes fall on his, and his lips curl in an awkward smile. Tony returns it, and without a tang of bitterness, swallowing the sensation of something irretrievably lost gnawing in his chest. Then he goes back to stare at the rest of Avengers.    
  
He thinks Wanda still dislikes him, he does not blame him. She has the right to, the feelings were deep-rooted inside her, even before she reached puberty.    
  
He would have liked if he could do something to remedy the dislike, but guesses he can’t. Another thing money cannot solve.   
  
Perhaps he can create a time-machine with his resources, he is supposed to be a genius after all. Then he can go back in time, and redo everything. Or, even better, he can go back and stop his parents from getting married. If those two certain types of genes did not mix, there would not have been a Tony Stark. Who knows, maybe it would have been better for his parents.   
  
He leans back to his chair and resists the urge to walk out of the meeting, just lie in the bed of his darkened bedroom.   
  
After the meeting everyone walks out, and Stephen gestures to him. Tony finds himself walking into a portal with him, leading to the Sanctum Sanctorum.    
  
  
  
Before Stephen can say anything, Tony says, “You don’t need to make me feel better, you know.”   
  
Stephen looks a bit taken aback, but Tony continues, shifting his eyes away from Stephen, “I know you don’t want to date me and deal with my issues. I understand perfectly. It's no biggie.”   
  
_ If it is no biggie, why does he loathe this conversation so much,  _ he wonders to himself _. _   
“It’s not that I don’t want to date you, Stark,” Stephen leans in close to him, ominously.   
  
Stephen always switches back to calling him Stark whenever he wants Tony to be serious about something, and Tony hates it. Thus Tony adds, “But you can’t because I could possibly hinder your job- whatever you do besides making balloon animals.”    
  
Stephen flops down on a couch. Tony has no idea where the furniture came from, but Stephen’s house is freaky like that. He runs his gloved palms through his black and white curls, as he tends to do when he is exasperated.   
  
Tony is amused at how he knows all those things about Stephen. He ponders what is becoming of him in the silence.   
  
“Tony...I love you but,” he coughs, now his fingers are intertwined with each other, fisting tightly, “I can’t, because I am not who you would want to be with.”   
  
A sudden spark of anger flares up inside Tony, he feels like a five-year-old being told off by an adult. “I know what I want! Thanks for the concern though, Str-ephen,” he barks, bitterly noting how fast he switches back to Strange in his anger.   
  
“Tony, I am…” Stephen sighs heavily and looks defeated, “I am impotent.”   
  
_ Oh. _ __  
__  
Realization dawns upon Tony, and he feels like laughing maniacally,  __ Stephen does not want to be with him because he can’t get it up? Does he really give off that sex-crazed vibe?   
  
“I can abstain from sex. I am not some damn horny teenager,” Tony scowls.   
  
“You are not getting this Tony. My kidneys took a hit in the accident. First, I did not really care much about it either, being focused on my curing my hands. But..but it matters, it is not just about the sex. It is about having an emotion of yours deleted, it is about losing an outlet of your feelings, it is not as simple as you think,” Stephen says sadly, his eyes not looking at Tony at all.   
  
“But you have not tried a therapy yet,” Tony objects.   
  
“It is too late for my kidneys Tony, I am sorry,” Stephen voice cracks, and Tony lists it as one of his most hated sounds, along with the crack of his arc-reactor or the sound of an explosion going off.   
  
  


* * *

Tony goes home, flying in his suit. And he sits in his lab, his most favorite place in the world - even when he is not doing anything, he thinks.   
  
Stephen mentioned frustration,  _ how bad can that be? _ __  
__  
So he thinks about sex instead, in a practical way. Ever since he had discovered the wonders of sex, he had used it as an emotional outlet. Every time, he had issues to deal with, his first thing to do was to go have some vigorous sex, and if it was really a severe issue, he would just go to some orgy.    
  
Now he wonders, what he would have done without sex. He would probably beat people up without reason and regret it later.   
  
__ Ah.   
  


Stephen perhaps has gone through worse situations, definitely died more than a hundred deaths, and remembers things no one should. Tony can’t imagine what a burden Stephen carries around with him.   
  
So if they do get into a relationship, they would be prone to scream their frustrations each other, despite not meaning to because none of them were particularly known for communicating about feelings. And maybe they would end up fighting each other, and perhaps accidentally killing each other? Tony muses whether he is overthinking, but yes that does sound like a toxic, unhealthy relationship.   
  
But what if he is killed by Stephen? The thought is disturbingly pleasing. He would not have to put a gun in his mouth and think if he misses the vital part and ends up surviving, he would have to live his life like a fucking vegetable -unable to do anything. He would lose his most precious possession - his mind. He would not have to sit in front of a noose and think how others around him would be affected by his death. He would not have to lie in his bed with a bottle of sleeping pills and wonder what if he is survived and how the tabloids go crazy. He would not have to sink his head inside his royal sized tub and find the water going away by his faithful bot, or stand up at the top of a multi-story building and wonder how much it would hurt when his body hits the concrete.   
  


He could have searched up the easiest way to die on google but he doubts there would be anything else besides seeking out professional help. He imagines walking into a therapist’s talking about his issues, and next day all of it would possibly end up in the hands of his enemies or papers - after all, there were only a number of things money could not do. Could the universe not mind his own business for once and let him die in peace? He again contemplates why everyone is so dead set on making everyone live when there is not enough job, food, and space. Guess he would never figure it out. He would probably never figure out why he cannot kill himself when it is his own fucking life and nobody else’s.    
  
He would be sad if people around him died though. He is such a hypocrite.   
  
  
He would not have to worry about anything if he, in fact, killed. He is sure Stephen can throw his body in some dimensional pocket so he is never found and arrange that the suspicion never falls upon him.    
  
But he knows, unfortunately enough, Stephen would not kill him. He has way better self-restraint than Tony does.    
  
Then he thinks of something. It is all about letting your feelings out, right? Then that just might work, though Tony supposes it is sounding better in his head. But since when has that ever stopped him?   


* * *

The next day, he visits Stephen again. After Thanos, there is an awful lot of free time on Earth. More time to contemplate humanity’s existence - he jokes to himself.   
  
Looking at Stephen, he thinks that,  _ yes he would be sad if I died, and maybe he would not blame me, instead he would blame himself. _ The train of thoughts fills his heart with a hatred for even thinking that way, but most pleasurable things happen to be vice, right? It happens inside his mind and no one should ever intrude upon it. Those belong to him and him only. Those are the proofs that he is existing, that he is living in blood and flesh, that he is breathing in the oxygen of earth,  that he has a life and even a soul and nobody should ever take that away from anyone.   
  
_ Not like he is dying anytime soon, unless maybe an earthquake starts and a high rise collapse on him. But judging his luck, he would end up being the sole survivor. _ __  
__  
So he walks to Stephen and announces, “I have found a way.” Stephen wordlessly looks up at him, his expression plain.   
  
_ Heavens, his eyes look so breathtaking _ , Tony just wants to take and frame them or store them or whatever. Not like he is actually planning to though.   
  
  
“It is all about letting your feelings out, right?” Tony waves his hands, “You can just beat me up.”   
  
Stephen starts coughing, “Excuse me?”   
  
Tony flops down on a chair beside Stephen, and says casually, “Let all your frustration out on me, I don’t mind.” Stephen has stilled beside him. He continues, “I don’t really mind. If you feel guilty or something, you can just give me a handjob or blowjob;I am not picky.”   
  
Stephen blinks rapidly and takes a deep breath.   
  
Of course, Tony has a whole speech prepared, “And no I will not be sleeping around with others, and I am taking neither will you. We good, doc? We are gonna date and mind each other’s business.” He grins, and his insides shake vehemently at Stephen not accepting it.   
  
“Let me ask you, Tony,” despite the use of the nickname, Tony can almost taste the seriousness in his tone, and he hates it.  __ He really hates an awful lot of nowadays, doesn’t he? Including, but not limited to himself.   
  
“Are you actually into masochism or submissiveness?” Stephen is looking straight at him.   
  
Tony ponders lying for a moment, but Stephen adds, “Don’t even think about lying.”    
  
He swallows the habit and urge to lie and replies, “Not really.”   
  
Stephen exhales, “Then why?”   
  
Tony scowls, “Why not?”   
  
Stephen rubs his temples, “You see nothing wrong  there?”   
  
Tony thinks about it, and it all sounds more than fine to him.    
  
It is certainly better than holding a knife on his skin, and wonder what a scandalous affair it would become if one of his sexual partners were to discover it. But the sight of blood trickling down his skin certainly is an intoxicating thing. Thus, he had continued. Then one day Pepper had found it out, cried, and almost made him go see a therapist. He had managed to hold off that visit, but he also had to promise her that he would not do it ever again.   
  
He really did not. But sometimes the urge would get strong enough to stare at a knife for hours and fight himself in his mind.   
  
So it would be quite a relief to have some beat him up, with consent, and not in a kinky way. He would not even need to hide them away carefully or make up excuses. Everything is perfect. Technically, he would not even be harming himself.   
  
Stephen sighs again, holds Tony’s face in his gloved palms and press his lips against Tony. Tony wonders if his plan worked.    
  


Stephen pulls back and pressed his forehead against Tony’s, “Are you really that desperate? Tony, I am not going to hit you or beat you up. But yes, if you want to date me that much, I guess I will comply.”   
  
Tony stares at Stephen, not quite getting what had happened, but he is sure as hell that he is not worrying about it as pulls Stephen towards him in a heated kiss.   
  
  
  
  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> Visit my [blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/luckyizzy666)


End file.
